


A View of the Stars

by Wrespawn



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Ghosts, Multi, Murder, Outer Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn
Summary: Any imposter worth their salt knows there’s no time for romance.  But sometimes romance finds a way.Warnings: Consensual sex under false pretenses, nonconsensual sex, character death, some mild slurs/degrading language.I tagged this as multi ships, but that's just because AO3 doesn't have a nonbinary/nonbinary option.  There is no gender in space.
Relationships: Cyan/White (Among Us)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	A View of the Stars

There was a magical moment when a ship slipped outside the radio range of civilization. White lived for that moment.

The crew was gathered in the communications room, six colorful spacesuits huddled around the long-range radio. Officially, they were gathered just in case they received any last-minute information or orders. White had been on a lot of ships and they’d seen every single crew do this, even though there was nothing in the employee handbook requiring it. This wasn’t tactics, this was a ritual, as simple and primal as a cavemen finger-painting on rock walls. No one on the ship wanted to be alone when the dancing green squiggle of a radio signal blipped into stillness. No one wanted to be alone for the moment when the whole ship became alone.

Engines were better funded than radios. It didn’t take long for a ship to rocket out past communication range. A fresh new crew could shake hands as they boarded a ship and minutes later they’d be the only voices sharing recycled air in the void of space.

Anticipation shivered up and down White’s spine as they watched the dancing radio waves flicker and falter like a dying heartbeat. Any minute now, the eyes of the universe would be averted. No one would be there to help if the crew started disappearing one by one. The glowing green line twitched and wiggled, as though gasping out one last breath. It seemed to suck all the air out of the room as it finally went flat. 

For a moment, there was no sound but the hum of the engines. White suppressed an excited shudder. Game on.

“All right, crew.” Purple’s voice was too loud in the sudden, star-filled silence. They sighed and pulled back from the dead radio. “I know it’s not a long trip, but there’s gonna be a lot to do. These budget-cut ships are falling apart at the seams. Let’s get to work.”

“Can we do some introductions first?” Yellow asked. “We just met each other and all.” Without waiting for a response, they waved one bright sunny hand. “Hi! I’m Yellow! This is my third mission ever and my favorite space food is tacos!”

This was neither protocol nor ritual. For a moment, the crew seemed disoriented by the request. At length, Black shrugged. 

“Sure, why not.” With that simple phrase, a new ritual was formed. “Hi, everyone, I’m Black. I’ve lost track of how many missions I’ve done, and you can’t go wrong with freeze-dried ice cream. Nice to meet you all.”

Some ships were friendlier than others. White knew how to handle either situation. They leaned on the table, casually, like it was a planet-side bar.

“I’m White. I like cute voices and watching the stars.”

White didn’t list their other interests. What the crew didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Well, it would only hurt for a moment, at least.

“Save it for rec time,” Purple huffed under their breath.

“I’m Cyan.” Cyan spoke to the whole room, but at the same time, they spoke only to White. “I also like, uh, stars.”

Cyan hadn’t looked away from White since they first spoke. White returned the favor.

“Hi, I’m Purple. I’m a pisces and I like long walks o _n the spaceship I fucking work on.”_

The words were punctuated by their hands slamming against the table. Everyone jolted.

“…And I’m Brown,” Brown said weakly.

“Are we all friends now? Good.” Purple straightened up. “Now go do your tasks.”

“Be careful out there.” Black was looking at the screen on their wrist. “I don’t know if any of you saw it in the file, but this ship is haunted. It shouldn’t be a problem if we work quickly.”

The tension spun by a dying radio shattered into laughter. Black’s helmet whipped around in offended confusion as everyone, even Purple, indulged in a moment of mirth.

“I’m serious!” Black’s voice rose in pitch as laughter echoed inside helmets. They jabbed a gloved finger at the group “Have none of you done a job at a haunted location before? They’re no joke!”

Cyan gave Black a friendly punch on the arm. “Tell you what, we’ll all gather around for ghost stories after we finish our tasks, yeah?”

“Let’s just hope no one died here recently,” Black grumbled.

White smiled under their helmet.

Purple cleared their throat as if to banish the last few giggles. “All right, let’s get to work. It’s gonna be a long shift.”

Released by the silence of the radio, the crew dispersed, filing out of the communications room. White whistled as they strode down the hall. So far, this ship was shaping up to be ripe for the picking. A nice easy job.

It was the suit. People trusted a white suit. It looked clean, pure. Subconsciously, everyone assumed that blood stains would have shown up on a suit like that. White hummed as they tapped their fingers against the hidden holster on their thigh where a knife was tucked among more innocent tools. People were wrong. Bloodstains weren’t an issue if you had a _special_ suit. It was impressive, really, just how much blood a person could bathe in without that suit belying a single splatter. Modern technology was a marvel.

As White passed through the shields room, Purple peeled off and hunkered over a control panel, fussing with dials. White paused for just a moment. A nice oblivious pair of shoulder blades always begged for a knife, but now wasn’t the time. The group had only just dispersed and it was too likely that someone else would wander this way. Better give everyone some time to spread out.

There was no need for White to force things. Sooner or later, they would find themselves alone with someone. In the meantime, it was better to look busy.

Each footstep was a metallic _clack_ against the metal floor, a percussive backdrop to White’s whistling. Purple was right, these discount transport ships needed a lot of care. Helping out with the chores was always a good look. White made their way towards the navigation room. There was usually some recalibrating to be done on those rusty old computers.

“Hey, White.”

White turned. Cyan stood in the hall behind them, alone. Under the helmet, White smiled. “Sooner or later” was shaping up to be sooner. 

“Cyan. You’re a pleasant surprise.”

Something was coloring Cyan’s voice, but it wasn’t suspicion. “Uh, sorry, I know we’re supposed to be working, it’s just…” Cyan shrugged, leaning against the railing on the wall. “I like to grab a little conversation where I can. Keeps me sane. Especially since we’re gonna be sharing space for a while.”

It was tempting, but White could feel the lens of a security camera burning into the back of their head. This model of transport ship always had cameras in the same places. Shame, really. Cyan was practically serving themselves up on a silver platter. 

“Don’t worry,” White chuckled, “I won’t tell Purple.”

“Ha! Thanks, I appreciate it.” Cyan didn’t pull away from the wall, frustratingly content to stay put in front of the camera. “You, uh, you don’t strike me as a new recruit, like Yellow is.”

 _I’ve probably killed more people than Yellow’s kissed._ White laughed. “Heh, no, not so much.”

“How long since you’ve been planet-side? It’s been a few weeks for me.”

White thought for a moment. “Quite a bit longer for me.” Nothing incriminating about that particular truth.

“Shit.” Cyan sounded sincere. “That must get…”

“Lonely?” White ventured.

“Yeah. Lonely.” Cyan perked up. “But hey, it’s not like we don’t get to meet cool people in this line of work, right?”

“Yeah.” White leaned against the wall next to Cyan, close enough that their knees bumped. “Makes it a little less lonely, huh?” 

“Gotta take what you can get.”

It took effort not to laugh. Cyan was beautifully transparent. White drummed their fingers against the rail and lowered their voice.

“You know… the weapons room has some nice big windows. I don’t think anyone would mind if we looked at the stars for a while.”

White could hear Cyan’s breath hitch. Score.

“Y-yeah, you know, I don’t think anyone would mind that.” 

White let their hand creep onto Cyan’s thigh. “Gotta take what you can get, right?”

Too easy. Not every target was so kind as to isolate themselves on purpose.

The weapons room was cluttered with growling machinery, bristling with controls for the various garbage-clearing lasers the ship boasted. White pushed Cyan past the equipment and pinned them against the window, against that lovely view of the stars. Cyan surely couldn’t see the stars from here, but they seemed content with the view of White.

“You know…” White let their hand trail down Cyan’s chest, dipping between their legs. “I like your voice.”

“I-I like your—“ Cyan’s breath hitched at the first squeeze. “Nnnnh, _hands_.”

White knew a lot about the construction of space suits. It was a bit of a personal interest. Every suit, regardless of the model, was nice and soft between the legs. No armoring here, just a dense pliable mesh, receptive to a searching hand. The material was sturdy enough to protect the wearer from cold and radiation, but thin enough to betray whispers of body heat and a clear outline of where White’s fingers could best spend their attention. White knew that Cyan could feel every movement, every press of fingers, even without Cyan’s sharp gasps and whines to confirm it.

But the gasps and whines sure were nice.

“I’m not gonna lie,” White whispered. “I’ve been hoping I might get you alone.”

Another beautiful truth.

“A-ah—“ 

“Shh. Not so loud. Purple’s gonna chew us out if they hear.”

Cyan’s hand slid over White’s chest as though searching for a heartbeat. “I-I’m about to be louder if you don’t slow down—“

“Well.” White’s other hand wandered to their hip, finding the hidden knife. “We can’t have that.”

White knew a lot about space suits. The conventional models were soft and flexible between the legs, under the arms, and around the neck. Unarmored. Vulnerable.

The knife sliced through the dense mesh of the suit and plunged hilt-deep into Cyan’s neck.

A shocked noise lodged itself in Cyan’s sliced throat. White let out a soft, satisfied breath, leaning closer and grinding the knife in deeper. Spacesuits made most types of penetration impossible, but this type always went in nice and easy. And it was White’s favorite kind of penetration anyway.

“Shhhh.” White whispered the words as Cyan twitched and choked. “I toldyou not to be so loud.”

White moved their fingers one more time for good measure. This time, the noise Cyan made was probably unrelated to the soft touch. No whines anymore, just a bloody strangled gurgle. White kept them pinned against the window and waited, heartbeat by heartbeat, for the life to leave Cyan’s body.

Like a glowing green radio wave going flat.

White wrenched the knife out of Cyan’s neck, tossing a few scarlet drops across the glassy view of the stars. As soon as they released Cyan’s body, it dropped to the floor. A few red speckles had gotten on White’s arm, but the suit’s special coating was already getting to work. As White watched, the proteins denatured and the iron neutralized, bleaching the droplets a bone-white until they were invisible to the naked eye.

White’s suit was _covered_ in phantom blood splatters. People looked straight at them and never saw them.

Whistling, White wiped off their knife on Cyan’s suit and slipped it back in its hidden holster. A few kicks nudged the body under a control panel: not hidden properly, but not obvious either. It would do. White just had to buy a little time.

One down, four to go. All the little colors of the rainbow, turning red one by one. It almost felt wrong to take money for a job this fun. …Almost. White liked money way too much to turn it down.

The hall outside weapons was empty. A stroke of good fortune. White strode down the hall with purpose. The only unfortunate thing was the camera. It was unlikely, but if someone had seen White and Cyan hanging out right before the murder, it might look suspicious. They couldn’t rely on no one finding the body, even though it was conveniently tucked in a corner. Time to get an alibi. White was good at killing, but they’d really gotten this far on their ability to get a good alibi.

Mentally, White ran through the crew members one by one. Purple was a non-starter. Some people were just suspicious by nature. Black seemed like a bad mark too. Hard to say about Brown, but…

… Ah, _Yellow._

Fresh new recruits were always a windfall. A few compliments, a few whispers, and Yellow would be aching for White to examine all the softer parts of their suit. Couldn’t ask for a better alibi than that. People trusted a white spacesuit, but they _really_ trusted someone who had given them a happy ending. 

It _would_ be a happy ending for Yellow, of course. White knew how to be a generous lover. Especially in exchange for an alibi. 

The merry sound of White’s whistling echoed off the metal walls. After all, if White could get Yellow alone once, they could get Yellow alone twice. Then there would be a happy ending for White.

The soft touch of a human hand brushed White’s palm.

White jolted and whipped around. The hall was empty. Engines hummed, but there were no footsteps. No sign that anyone was nearby.

“…Someone there?” White called uneasily.

No one responded. White shook their hand as though it had been stung, staring at it in confusion. They could have sworn they’d felt someone try to hold their hand just now.

Gentle fingers trailed lovingly up White’s arm.

White jumped, stumbling backwards as if pulling away from a physical force, even though the hall was empty. Their gloved hand groped frantically over their arm, pressing on the suit, searching for some foreign presence beneath it. The shapes were all as they should be: element-resistant material, sturdier heat shields over the more rigid parts of the body, wires woven into the mesh to connect the wrist screen to other electronics, and beneath it all was the normal human shape of White’s arm.

There was nothing inside White’s suit that wasn’t supposed to be there, and yet a soft, intimate touch was sliding over their skin.

White’s back bumped against a wall. Their breath was heavy, heating the air inside their helmet. It felt like a hand. A bare, soft, human hand against White’s bare, soft, human skin. For one horrible moment, White experienced an urge they had never felt before: the urge to shout for help. The words caught in their throat, stifled before they could echo down the metal halls. Cyan’s body was going cold in weapons. This was the _last_ time to draw attention to themselves.

The ghostly touch slid over White’s chest as though searching for a heartbeat.

White was panting in their mask. They almost didn’t dare to say the word. It came out in a hot, nearly-silent puff of air, a secret.

“…Cyan?”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

Soft as a lover’s caress, nonexistent hands trailed down White’s body. White felt frozen in place as the phantom touch lingered on their hips, thumbs rubbing circles over shivering skin.

_This ship is haunted. Let’s just hope no one died here recently._

Ghosts weren’t real. White would have met one by now if they were.

White had to move. They couldn’t afford to stand here and deal with — whatever the _fuck_ this was. There was a dead body oozing all over the weapons room and White was standing near it with no alibi. 

White tried to take a step, and something slick moved up their thigh.

 _Warm._ In the cool, recycled air of the station, _warmth_ was a jarring sensation. White fumbled for support, grabbing the wall’s steel railing as their knees wobbled. The touch trailed up and up and finally— A strangled gasped slipped out of White and they almost let go of the railing. Warm, warm, then _hot_ suction was moving between their legs, bypassing the suit as though it wasn’t even there. 

“Ah—“

It felt like a _mouth_ , a rare luxury on a crowded spaceship. There was no one else in the hall, but White could feel soft lips and a hungry, swirling tongue. The sweet wet warmth was paralytic. White could barely hold themselves upright, much less take a step. Between running hit jobs and covering up hit jobs, it had been a while since they’d had another person’s touch underneath their suit. The nerve endings seemed to have forgotten what it felt like.

“F-fuck…” White couldn’t muffle the curse that slipped out. The impossible, intangible touch moved with _hunger,_ like White’s body was a feast, the first planet-side meal after months of astronaut food. “Oh-oh _fuck…”_

It didn’t matter that there was no room between White’s shaking legs: ghostly touches were wandering between them, hunting. White gulped down air as the probing pressure eased _inside_ their body like a lover’s finger. It moved, pumped, gentle and lazy. White could barely see straight. Penetration shouldn’t be possible in a suit, except for one kind—

This wasn’t a ghost. Ghosts weren’t real. Black was full of shit. White’s toes curled in their space boots as the incorporeal touches guided them closer to the edge. This wasn’t a ghost, this wasn’t _Cyan —_

“A-ah—“ White’s head fell back, as much as the suit allowed. Their hands shook on the railing. “Oh _fuck—_ “

Happy ending for White.

The sudden blast of an emergency bell in White’s com almost stopped their heart. White scrambled to deafen it with their knees still made of jelly, their body still pulsing with waves of pleasure.

“F-fuck fuck fuck —“

There was only one reason a crew mate would use that alarm. Either there was a second murderer on this ship, or someone had just found Cyan. The bell was a summons to deliberate over how the murder happened. To decide if anyone needed to be thrown out the airlock.

White couldn’t get their fucking legs to work.

The ghostly touch was gone, leaving nothing but spine-rippling shivers and a hot, sticky mess all over the inside of White’s suit. Gingerly, they tried to put weight on their legs. That… that couldn’t have been all in their head. They couldn’t have just spontaneously imagined a touch so real that they got off inside their suit.

Not only that, but got off so hard they could barely walk right now.

Long before White was ready, they heard the sound of a crew mate’s voice.

“I found White!”

White tried and failed to stand on their own two legs, still fumbling at the wall for support. Yellow was running down the hall, and as White watched, the rest of the crew followed behind.

“We called a meeting,” Yellow explained, obnoxiously sincere as they approached. “When you didn’t show up, we thought— well, you’re okay, right?”

“S-sorry I didn’t come—“ White stumbled over the words. “—to the meeting.” _Fuck,_ it almost felt like the touch was still there, teasing the nerve endings every time they started to calm. “H-had a… weird dizzy spell.”

Yellow stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, guess it’s just been too long since I’ve been on a rickety craft like this. Lost my sea legs. I-I’ll be okay in a minute.” White managed a weak laugh. “Can you pretend I still look cool?”

Once White had smoothed this over, Yellow was still their best mark for an easy alibi. Better lay the groundwork now.

“Cyan’s dead.” Brown’s blurted the words. “I-I found them in the weapons room.”

Purple crossed their arms. “Now that we’re all here, we can talk about how exactly that happened.” They were giving White a distressing amount of their attention. “Yellow, you wanna tell the rest of them what you told me?”

“Yeah, I…” Yellow was fidgeting. “I saw something on the cameras. And… I think it’s important.”

 _Shit._ White struggled to catch their breath, praying in vain that the rest of the crew didn’t read into it. What the fuck was the rookie doing on the cameras? Naive bitch should have been bustling about to do their chores and make friends.

“White and Cyan were talking in the hall outside navigation.” Yellow was running their mouth, talking about things they never should have seen. “I saw them leave together. I don’t know if they both went to weapons after that, but they were sure heading in the right direction.”

“White?” Purple’s voice was hard. “Have you got a fun story about what you were doing while Cyan was getting slit?”

“I-I…” An aftershock rippled through White’s legs, almost too intense to be real. “I w-was…”

_Shit shit shit shit shit._

“I haven’t seen White since we split up,” Black offered placidly.

“I-I went to admin,” White blurted. It came out shaky, unconvincing. “Got held up on the card reader for a while. Y-you know how sticky those things are. Yellow’s right, I had a nice chat with Cyan, but we split up after that.”

“You weren’t in admin.” Purple didn’t move. “Certainly not for a long time. _I_ was in admin, and I think I would have remembered you skulking around.”

White’s fingers tightened on the railing until they hurt. They still couldn’t catch their breath, thighs quaking as though they could still feel Cyan’s hands tracing over them, feather-soft. They should be able to come up with something, a lie, an explanation for why Purple didn’t see them, suspicion to throw on someone else, but— but White’s brain was fizzling with the memory of sweet, devoted warmth between their legs.

They swore they could still feel Cyan’s breath.

Yellow looked uneasy. They leaned towards Black, murmuring, “Is White _well?_ ”

Black’s visor hid their face, but somehow, White could read their stony expression. “It’s called a guilty conscience,” they said.

Black was lying. They didn’t believe their own words. White glared through their visor, panting, wishing they could kill Black with their mind. Somehow, impossibly, that bastard _knew._

Purple stalked forward and roughly grabbed White’s arm. “All right, buddy. Game’s over. Black, give me a hand here.”

White flinched as Black grabbed their other arm. 

“I guess it’s a good thing the ship is haunted.” Black murmured the words, too softly for the rest of the crew to hear. “Believing in ghosts yet, White?”

White shuddered, half memory and half aftershock. The sticky mess between their thighs was cooling in the recycled air, trapped in their suit.

That bastard fucking _knew._

“Why’d you do it?” Yellow’s hands were clenched. “Cyan was _nice._ Why’d you kill them?”

Purple shook their head. “Don’t waste your breath, Yellow. I’ve seen imposters like White before. They’re a rat for hire, that’s all.”

“I want to hear their answer.” There was an unexpected strength in Yellow’s voice. “If they can look me in the eye and give one.”

 _Game over._ Oddly, White’s labored breath was beginning to calm. _Nothing left but the walk to the airlock._ Despite the taste of defeat, a bitter-cold smile dragged itself across White’s face. 

“Cyan wanted to have a good time,” they drawled. “Could’ve given you a good time too, babe, if you’d kept your fucking mouth shut.”

Purple’s grip tightened on White’s arm. “I hear you like watching the stars,” they snarled. “You’re about to get a _great_ view of them.”

White grunted in alarm as they were hauled them down the corridor. The rest of the crew followed, an escort as impenetrable as the armored portions of a spacesuit. An isolated crew was little more than free candy, but there was no escaping a united crew.

No happy ending for White after all.


End file.
